How to Get a Leg Up in Life - Part 2 (Part 0) (Intro)

How to Get a Leg Up in Life

How to Get a Leg Up in Life (Full Circle)

But we are not gods.

Yet we still sit here, atop a mountain we will never leave, above those who didn’t even try. They’ll look up at us and see something heroic, something they’ll mistake for glory. But they won’t know the truth. They’ll hear the wrong tale. They’ll call us brave and bold, but they won’t understand what we lost. They won’t understand how much of this was failure, not triumph.

We didn’t plan for this. We didn’t think. We didn’t stop to ask ourselves what it would take to survive, what it would cost. We didn’t read the stories of those who came before us, who died on the same climb, who left their warnings carved into the ice.

So now, here we are, two broken bodies on the summit. And all that’s left is the question: why did we do this to ourselves? Because we can. Far too easily, with nothing more than a misplaced feeling.

Think more. Live longer. Don’t climb mountains you’re not ready for. Don’t make sacrifices you don’t have to make. Don’t let pride and ego turn you into a cautionary tale.

Because dying on the summit isn’t glory. It’s failure. And the mountain doesn’t care.

And we’d cut off our own legs to prove it — prove we can survive, prove we’re strong, prove we’re something worth remembering. But it’s all for nothing if we don’t learn a damned lesson. Because the truth is, survival isn’t survival when it comes at the cost of your own soul. It’s just dying slower.

We need a friend to feed. That’s the reality. Without someone else to give, to share, to take part in this absurd, painful exchange, it makes no difference. The sacrifice, the suffering — it all falls apart when it’s only you. Because what’s the point of surviving alone on this mountaintop? What’s the point of cutting, of bleeding, of offering yourself up to the void if there’s no one to take it, no one to share the burden?

We weren’t built to do this alone. We weren’t meant to face mountains with no hands to hold. And yet here we are, proving nothing to no one, cutting off pieces of ourselves to appease a mountain that doesn’t care, dying piece by piece because we don’t know how to live together, and we don’t know how to live alone.

So we cut. And we bleed. And we sit on this godforsaken summit with nothing left to give, waiting for a death that feels overdue and underwhelming.

We need a friend to feed. Or none of it matters. We just eat ourselves.

So, it’s you, your best friend (also you), and the both of you are in a hard place we can all relate to even if we’ve never been there. Why? Because we’ve heard about it, seen it, thought about it.

We’re on a mountaintop.

Perhaps, we should calm down, before we hurt ourselves and each other.

Or none of it matters.
We just eat ourselves.
Mountainous egos and imposing pain, cannibalistic natures and actions. Assholes.

A Tale of Mountains, Cannibalism, and Being an Asshole

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How to Get a Leg Up in Life How to Get a Leg Up in Life (Full Circle) But we are not gods. Yet we still sit here, atop a mountain we will never leave, above those who didn’t even try. They’ll look up at us and see something heroic, something they’ll mistake for glory. But they won’t know the truth. They’ll hear the wrong tale. They’ll call us brave and bold, but they won’t understand what we lost. They won’t understand how much of this was failure, not triumph. We didn’t plan for this. We didn’t think. We didn’t stop to ask ourselves what it would take to survive, what it would cost. We didn’t read the stories of those who came before us, who died on the same climb, who left their warnings carved into the ice. So now, here we are, two broken bodies on the summit. And all that’s left is the question: why did we do this to ourselves? Because we can. Far too easily, with nothing more than a misplaced feeling. Think more. Live longer. Don’t climb mountains you’re not ready for. Don’t make sacrifices you don’t have to make. Don’t let pride and ego turn you into a cautionary tale. Because dying on the summit isn’t glory. It’s failure. And the mountain doesn’t care. And we’d cut off our own legs to prove it — prove we can survive, prove we’re strong, prove we’re something worth remembering. But it’s all for nothing if we don’t learn a damned lesson. Because the truth is, survival isn’t survival when it comes at the cost of your own soul. It’s just dying slower. We need a friend to feed. That’s the reality. Without someone else to give, to share, to take part in this absurd, painful exchange, it makes no difference. The sacrifice, the suffering — it all falls apart when it’s only you. Because what’s the point of surviving alone on this mountaintop? What’s the point of cutting, of bleeding, of offering yourself up to the void if there’s no one to take it, no one to share the burden? We weren’t built to do this alone. We weren’t meant to face mountains with no hands to hold. And yet here we are, proving nothing to no one, cutting off pieces of ourselves to appease a mountain that doesn’t care, dying piece by piece because we don’t know how to live together, and we don’t know how to live alone. So we cut. And we bleed. And we sit on this godforsaken summit with nothing left to give, waiting for a death that feels overdue and underwhelming. We need a friend to feed. Or none of it matters. We just eat ourselves. So, it’s you, your best friend (also you), and the both of you are in a hard place we can all relate to even if we’ve never been there. Why? Because we’ve heard about it, seen it, thought about it. We’re on a mountaintop. Perhaps, we should calm down, before we hurt ourselves and each other. Or none of it matters. We just eat ourselves. Mountainous egos and imposing pain, cannibalistic natures and actions. Assholes. A Tale of Mountains, Cannibalism, and Being an Asshole

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